Because I've Only Got Eight Years
by Yanagi of the Wind
Summary: Belarus used to be a powerful woman, but she wakes up one day after having passed out in Russia's house. The doctors diagnose her with an incurable illness, but she's a nation! She can't die! She hasn't even married Russia! She's forced to accept her fate. How will she tell her newfound friends, though? She can't just leave them in the dark. The past eight years...


To the nations of world:

You are my companions and friends. You stuck by me.

I have a very important letter to write. I should have written it sooner, but I couldn't bring myself to. It causes- or, used to cause- great emotional pain on me to think of these things, and how they are coming to a close. I've truly accepted it now, and I can move on, free of the regret of having never told the most important ones in my life my greatest secret. It is one you all deserve to know, and I can't let it pass. Even with choppy, shaky handwriting that may be illegible, I have to at least try. This is my final chance.

Starting some time around eight years ago, I became sick. I didn't know I had fallen down with any illness, and, oblivious to it, I went about my daily life. It consisted of following my older brother around all day and most of the night. Almost ironically, the man the world is most afraid of was, in turn, terrified of the girl who was most afraid of the world. The worst part for him might have been that I knew his address and had the key to his house.

On one of the many days I spent hiding in his home, I passed out. Of course, when I was found hiding in his closet, he was scared, but he called my older sister to come and get me. I was woken some time by a tugging feeling on my hair, and groggily, I realized who it was that was touching me. Back then, I was disgusted by her. I hated her! I hated my sister, my rival, the one who always tried to steal my brother from me, keeping him to herself! Never could I allow being touched- _tended to _and_ pitied over_- by her. I yelled obscenities at her. I hit her and threatened her. How dare she touch me, ME, the one and only Belarus?!

My sister cried and left me, and I got up, glaring around the room I was in. It was a small and dull room, easily recognizable as her's. I hit the wall hard enough to leave a crack that I knew she couldn't afford to fix, and I was proud of it.

After a few days (I'd learned how to get to my brother's house quicker than anyone should be able to on foot) I arrived back at his home and let myself in. I was exhausted from my short journey, but I was determined to get to my brother. Undoubtedly, he was hiding from me in one of the closets or locked in a bathroom, away from reach, but I would find him, and eventually I would make him mine. I never managed to get to him, though, because in my sleepiness, I clumsily tripped over a rug and hit my head hard enough for everything to go black for the second time in three days.

I like to think it was Russia who had carried me to the nearest hospital through snow that was impassable by car. I know someone must have, and that he must have been there, because when I awoke, the nurse there told me that my brother was in the waiting room. Using my human alias, a strong and beautiful name I adored, I scheduled an appointment to have myself checked over. I hadn't been to a doctor in a long time, and I I figured that whatever reason I had gotten so tired so early, the doctor could diagnose me and the medication would fix it.

It was late February, a full month after I had myself scanned, that I was given the results of my tests. The medical team could not understand what I had- it was a rare disease, probably found only in whatever species we nations are, that I had contracted. All they could tell me was that whatever it was, it seemed to be causing my body to deteriorate quicker that a human should. At the rate it was going, I would only have six years of life left. Because they didn't know what the disease was, they did not have a cure.

Six years, my ass! I stabbed the doctor! I hopped the needle I put in his shoulder was filthy with the worst diseases a needle could hold! I'd tell Russia that it had only been a short head cold.

Both my siblings had faces washed with relief when I told them I was fine. It was a shock- I knew Russia would be glad to learn I was all right; he _loved_ me, after all- but Ukraine was my rival. We _hated_ each other to the extreme. She should not- _could not_- have been happy I wouldn't die. Nevertheless, the look she took on when I told the two of them the illness was nothing major could only be interpreted as solace. My heart was almost slightly warmed at knowing my sister wouldn't want me dead.

We returned to our daily lives without complaint. I knew, however, that it would be important to try and stay healthy. Of course I didn't have an incurable illness- nations don't die- but it would still have helped to prevent myself from falling sick again. Russia could never love me if I had snot dripping down my face. An ugly woman would not make for a suitable wife.

I ate more after that. Without the hunger strikes I often pulled to catch his attention, my body would become stronger and more energized. The dances China did in the morning that I caught Russia watching became dances I did in the morning, and I would be observant, expecting to find Russia watching me in place of the brunette. Walking was good for building muscles and strengthening the body, so I did that more often, taking trips to the market every few days, even if it was only to look at the produce. If I drank less alcohol and wore warmer clothing in colder months rather than chilly dresses that accentuated my form, I was sure to be in the best state of well-being a person could get into.

I was so certain that I wold be well again. No doctor could ever tell me otherwise. Besides, I was a nation, powerful and stunning; I was a miracle of nature. If the countries that had been infested with plague or devastated by wars could return to their proper state, a simple cold would be demolished by my better habits. Russia would be able to finally admit his love to me. I'd be in better health than before and continue living a promising life.

In mid April, I spied on Russia and Ukraine as they played with the remaining wet snow.

In late October, I followed as Russia and China celebrated an American holiday.

My life was absolutely fine. I wasn't sick.

I wasn't.

* * *

**A/N: YEAH! I wrote this in the middle of last year. After re-reading it, I realize it was boring and short, so I've rewritten it! I'm going to update weekly! There will be eight chapters, and I might decide to make an epilogue afterwards. The chapters will also lengthen after chapter three due to a certain event in the story. Please review what you think of this!**


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